


Lay Hands on Me

by Dangerousnotbroken



Series: On A Slow Night 'verse [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, D/s relationship, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Feels, Spanking, Switching, bottom!Castiel, dom!Dean, sub!cas, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 20:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerousnotbroken/pseuds/Dangerousnotbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing Dean won't give Castiel if he asks. Not a single, goddamn thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lay Hands on Me

Dean’s never seen Castiel like this. They’ve been through so much together, through heaven and hell, and Castiel has bared his soul or whatever it is that angels have in its place. Dean would recognize the brilliant glow of it anywhere. He’s seen Castiel the stoic warrior, fiercest of the garrison. He’s seen Castiel, rebel, struggling to understand humanity and free will even as he stumbles through his choices and somehow comes out on the side of right. He’s seen Cas with more humanity in his angelic self than Dean has seen in many actual humans. He’s kind and gentle, or he’s stoic and intense, or he’s implacable and ponderous. As much as these traits seem at odds, he’s seen them all, and they’re all Cas.

He’s seen Cas bring wrath down upon his enemies. He handles demons and monsters as easily Dean would handle a disobedient toddler; possibly easier. Dean will be the first to admit he doesn’t have a whole lot of experience with children. He’s seen Cas stand up to other angels, wielding more power in his little finger than Dean could ever hope to have at his disposal, even armed to the teeth with every firearm and blade in his arsenal. Cas is magnificent, startling and thunderous and a force to be reckoned with. Cas is celestial majesty, to be feared and respected and worshipped and revered from afar like some benevolent deity, magnanimous and fair and so bright you have to avert your eyes.

He’s not though. He should be, Dean figures, but right now he isn’t. He rains destruction wherever he’s challenged and has forgotten more than Dean could hope to learn in a dozen lifetimes. But he’s none of that now. Instead, he’s a wrecked, sobbing mess, begging for Dean to lay hands on him just one more time, and his desperate sounds are pure music to Dean’s ears.

“Please,” Cas whines, twitching impotently at the restraints that secure him to the bed. They’re both fully aware that Cas could be free in the blink of an eye if he really chose to. There’s nothing at Dean’s disposal other than holy oil that will really keep an angel locked down and he’s hardly interested in bringing that into playtime. There are some lines even Dean isn’t willing to cross. Gasping breaths shudder from Cas’ lungs, his mouth hanging open where his face lies pressed to the mattress. His fingers clutch at the sheets, his legs tense as he tries to pull them under him and push away but he can’t, not restrained as he is. Not without breaking the rules. If he wanted out Dean would let him free in a second. He only needs to say that one word, agreed upon in advance, and Dean will drop everything to come to his aid. Nothing is giving Dean the impression that he’s begging for freedom though. Hardly.

“Please, Dean,” Cas repeats as he sags in his bonds. Each arm is bound to a corner post. There’s enough slack that he could bend each to a 90 degree angle out to the side of his shoulders but he certainly couldn’t move much further. His legs are similarly bound. With Dean’s help he could get his knees under him, prop himself up with his ass in the air, and that’s certainly on the menu, but for now he’s right where he needs to be. “I can’t…I can’t…” Cas sobs, broken, and Dean lays a soothing hand on the small of his back.

“Shh…it’s ok. You’re doing so wonderfully for me.” Dean’s voice is soft and crooning, barely above a whisper. “You know you can end this any time. You just have to say the word. Is that what you want?” Cas shakes his head, sweat matting his eternally haphazard tresses to his brow, running down his neck and beading across the flexing muscles of his shoulders. He’s worn ragged, frayed, pushed to his limits, but Dean wants to push him just a little bit further. Cas can take it if he chooses to, and it seems that he’s willing to keep this up. Dean smiles, though Cas can’t see the grin spread across his lips, and wipes the sweat from his own forehead with the back of his hand before bringing himself to kneel on the bed between Cas’ spread legs. His fingertips drag lightly across the sensitive skin on Cas’ inner thighs. It’s such a contrast to the roughness the evening has wrought that it has Cas shuddering and his breath is a soft whine escaping from lips that have no chance of containing it.

Dean grips the globes of Cas’ buttocks firmly in each hand, squeezing and kneading for a moment. Every part of Cas is unbelievably responsive. Every touch Dean gives him brings such sounds, such pleasure. He could spend the rest of his life cataloguing those noises. His thumb traces over the faint red marks his teeth left earlier and Cas squirms. Cas likes being marked. This much has become _achingly_ apparent over the course of their evening. Dean is only too happy to oblige. He’ll give Cas anything he wants; anything he needs. And right now, what Cas needs is to fall apart, to come, hollering and thrashing as Dean takes care of him in a way that Cas had never imagined possible before tonight.

Cas has already come twice, and Dean is certain he can wring a third climax out of the angel. He bounces back so fast, this perfect being, and what Dean really wants is for them to finish together. The first time, he hadn’t even lashed Cas to the bed yet. Instead, he’d stripped the blue eyed man out of his suit and laid him out on the bed with strict instructions not to move. Cas had obeyed readily; showing such steely resolve as Dean assaulted his body with pleasure. The first climax had taken the longest; drawn out intentionally to see if Dean could make the angel break the rules, but he’d been steadfast. Dean’s hands and mouth worked meticulously over every part of Cas’ body before finally settling his focus on the aching erection between his legs. He'd coaxed and teased until Cas couldn't take it anymore before letting Cas’ release spill down his throat, leaving the angel panting and wide eyed in its wake.

The second had been hard earned as well, for both of them. It took every ounce of restraint in Dean’s body not to bury himself in the heat of Cas’ ass the moment he had him bound up and exposed. This wasn't about what Dean wanted though, it was about what Cas wanted, what Cas needed, so he fought back the urges and took his time opening Cas up with nimble fingers, slicking him up and driving his digits in over and over until Cas came, shaking and howling. The evidence of his release painted his belly and clung to the sheets beneath him as he writhed and moaned, making futile attempts to chase the touch of Dean’s gentle hands as the aftershocks danced through his veins and blurred his vision. He'd taken longer to come back to himself after the second these he had after the first. And now he whines and begs and thrashes, and Dean can barely contain his excitement.

“You've been so good for me, angel,” Dean purrs. A single digit nudges at Cas’ opening and he accepts it willingly, greedily. If he had the ability to move much at all, Dean gets the impression that he'd be rocking back and drawing Dean deeper, but for now he just has to take what he’s given. “I just need you to be good a little while longer. Can you do that for me?” A quickening of the harsh breaths that escape Cas’ plush pink lips is the only reply Dean gets. He narrows his eyes, and then brings his free hand down to ring out a sharp crack across Cas’ perfect ass. The angel groans underneath him. He liked that. Dean will have to file that information away for later. “I asked you a question. Aren't you going to answer me?” Dean lets his voice take on a mocking tone. It's all part of the game.

“Yes, I can do that,” Cas answers breathlessly. “I can be good for you.” The voice that speaks the words is desperate and reedy, so different from the commanding tone that usually brings forth pronouncements from that throat. It’s fascinating, really. Only hours before they sat fully clothed in this very room and spoke calmly and rationally about what this night would entail and Castiel was all certainty and strength and power. Dean startled at the idea that he should be the one to dominate. It had felt so foreign when he wrapped his brain around it, but now he sees it for what it really is; an opportunity to give as well as he’s gotten. It’s hard not to look at Cas, his flesh pink and sweaty, as Dean slides two fingers in and out of his hole, and not think of what he himself must look like when their roles are reversed. He takes as much pleasure in observing Cas’ responses as he does in the sensations he receives from causing them, and Dean is a novice beside Cas’ much more experienced hands. He understands now why Cas loves these times so much. There’s an amazing thrill to be had when this kind of trust is placed in you. It’s so hard to keep his hands moving slow and steady, so hard not to rush on and take what he wants. But this is about Cas, and he wants it to be so good, so perfect.

“Please, Dean…” Cas keens. He’s so beautiful like this, when Dean’s taken him apart. There’s nothing left of the soldier now, no instrument of heaven portrayed in his actions. There’s only Castiel, the part of him that’s always been more man than angel, crying out for whatever Dean sees fit to give him. And so Dean grants his request, hauling Cas roughly onto his knees. There’s not enough slack for Cas to prop himself up on his hands or even his elbows but he doesn’t complain. He knows that Dean will take care of him. Cas takes him in easily after only a little resistance and Dean is glad he spent so much time teasing the poor angel, because he doesn’t think he’d survive the agony of a drawn out push to bury himself deep in that heat. Once he’s in, hips pressed against Cas’ thighs, he forces himself to steady and revel in the rush of sensation. Dean considers standing steadfast until Cas starts to beg again, and another time that might be fun for both of them but now he’s got so little resolve left that he takes mercy on his partner and starts to move his hips in short, quick circles. Cas gasps; he groans. He gives up punched out noises and half-syllables and babbles incoherently. Every note of it is music to Dean’s ears. This is his work. _He_ did this; Castiel is whining and whimpering and sobbing with pleasure because of _Dean,_ and that is possibly the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.

Gradually, Dean works his way up to longer, harder thrusts. Cas’ sounds match his intensity the whole way through. They’re at a fever pitch by the time Dean drapes himself out over Cas’ back and brings his hand to drag over the taught skin of Cas’ hip before descending to wrap around his cock where it hangs hard and heavy between his legs. Cas hisses a breath through clenched teeth when Dean takes him In hand, and Dean doesn’t even try to contain the moan that slips from between his own lips as his hand starts to work in tandem with his hips. He strokes Cas gently, knowing full well how sensitive he must be by this point in time, and every sensation in his own thrumming body tells Dean that he’s getting close to orgasm.

“Come for me, angel,” Dean commands, whispering the words harshly. He wants to feel Cas break beneath him, feel his entire body shudder and contract with waves of pleasure while he’s still thrusting into it. Cas whimpers, having lost the ability to form words, and his eyes squeeze shut and his hands clutch at the air, and then suddenly he’s crying out, howling as his third orgasm of the night rips through him like a force of nature. Dean is startled with the intensity of it, the way Cas’ body tightens around him, and it only takes a few more thrusts before his own body replies in kind, spilling into Cas and ripping an inhuman sound from his throat as his hips make sharp, jerky motions.

Cas continues to whimper softly while Dean extricates himself. His body tells him it’s time to lie down and sleep, but his brain knows that there’s nothing more important than taking care of Cas right now. The restraints on his arms come off first. Dean presses soft, soothing kisses to every place the bonds touched, whispers reassurances against the reddened skin as he goes. His hands work gently at the muscles in Cas’ shoulders, strained and sore from being held in one position for so long, and Cas calms and settles under his touch, his breaths gradually coming back to a normal pace, his heart rate slowing. By the time Dean has freed Cas’ legs and pressed his lips to everywhere he was bound or restrained or struck, Cas is floating and dreamy. Dean holds a cold bottle of water to his lips, but Cas shakes his head.

“Angels do not require hydration,” he says, trying to regain some of his usual stoicism.

“Drink it anyway. Drink it for me.” Cas doesn’t fight it, then, and lets Dean poor the cool water past his swollen lips. He drinks greedily once he lets himself start, and soon the entire bottle is drained. “You’re amazing,” Dean croons. He climbs back on to the bed and cradles Cas to his chest. Cas goes willingly, lets himself be coddled and comforted and soothed. “You’re magnificent,” Dean announces. Cas hums softly against Dean’s skin, soaking up the praise and letting Dean wrap him in warmth.

“Do you think you can walk?” Dean asks softly, and Cas makes a noncommittal sound in reply. “I’m going to draw you a bath. I’ll carry you if I have to.” Cas sighs and opens his eyes and his lips curl in to a smile. He stands on shaky legs and lets Dean support most of his weight. If this were a fancy hotel, it might have a soaker tub big enough for both of them, but sadly it’s not, so Dean will have to content himself with sitting on the edge of the tub. Later, when Cas stops drifting and comes back to himself, they’ll have to debrief. It’s good to talk about these things after. He’s learned that from all the times he’s been in Cas’ position, when Cas has been the one to draw him a bath and rub his sore muscles and murmur praise into his skin. For now, Dean will rest easy with the knowledge that he made his angel feel good.

**Author's Note:**

> I am usually SO team bottom!dean, but some times you gotta play with an idea, and I'm so happy with how this came out. Always remember, kids. Safe, sane, consensual!!  
> [I'm on tumblr! Come visit me!](http://shennanigoats.tumblr.com)


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